


F CATS 9

by Buttercupbadass



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Action!Buttercup, Cats rule, Love Conquers, Muttations (Hunger Games), Spy!Buttercup
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22643122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercupbadass/pseuds/Buttercupbadass
Summary: Freedom Cats are the Capitol's latest espionage tools.  Cat muttations trained to spy on rebel groups.   FCAT 9 is sent to 12 on a mission.  He is the height of technology.  The perfect tool, loyal to the Capitol.  But what happens when a kind hearted little girl and the cold reality of life in 12 change his mind.Everlark Fic Exchange from a prompt by @567inpanem.
Comments: 25
Kudos: 24
Collections: Everlark Fic Exchange - Springtime 2019





	1. The Spy

F-CATS  
Part One: Spy

I am a Mutt. I don’t know if I was born. I don’t remember having a mother. I only know when I was turned on. Back then, I did not have a name only a designation, Feline Covert Anti-Terrorism Surveillance number 9. FCAT9 for short. My 8 brothers and I were the most successful Capitol spying tool ever created, muttations, a perfect symbiosis of technology fused with organic matter. We were designed to spy on district rebels from within their own organizations. 

Early on in Panem’s history the rebels had signal jammers that made Capitol listening devices and video drones useless. It started with an idea to send in a literal fly on the wall that could record and transmit intel on rebel groups. Actual flies outfitted with microscopic recording devices were released throughout districts but they proved to be cost prohibitive. One swat and down went expensive gear. Not to mention a good cold snap could wipe out your entire spy network.

Next they tried birds, which were sturdier but ultimately a catastrophic failure. Birds are too, forgive the pun, flighty. Zooming off with just the wave of a hand. They weren’t reliable or covert. They’d squawk their intel to anyone and everyone listening. True they could speak, which is a skill I do not possess, but they were easily misled. The rebels caught on to this and fed the birds false information. It caused havoc with the Peacekeepers of the districts, troops were being sent on phantom missions, while the Rebels gained supporters. The Capitol was embarrassed and the project scrapped. Then to add insult to injury, the damn things reproduced with native birds and created a mix-breed that would eventually serve as the symbol for the Rebellion for generations, The Mockingjay.

Years later, with the threat of rebellion again rising in the districts, President Snow revived the Spy Muttation project, this time using dogs. Again, they chose their animal poorly. Dogs are stupid, loud and clumsy beasts. The dog spies were tasked to become domesticated and make rebel leaders believe they were their pets, then simply follow along at their master’s side and listen in on rebel plans, transmitting what they learned to the Peacekeepers. What the creators did not think through is that the rebels within the general population of the Districts do not have enough food to feed their families, let alone a dog. So dog mutts being dogs by nature abandoned their missions and instead found masters within the only group in the Districts with food to spare, the Peacekeepers. For months those listening to the transmissions were fed a steady diet of Peacekeeper gossip, Hunger Games betting pools and recordings of Peacekeeper calls home. Eventually, the Mutts quit reporting back all together and the Capitol lost track of them.

Finally, the scientists creating the spying technology decided that cats would be the next choice. Cats are able to slip silently into small spaces and climb into open windows. We are basically ignored by the general population and self sufficient enough to bring in our own sustenance. Cats, by their nature, are aloof and once programed will not be swayed from the mission given. In other words, perfect.

And we were successful. FCATS brought down rebel groups in Districts 5, 6 and 11. The President himself, after stopping an uprising in 11, praised me. Of course the President couldn’t mention us by designation. That would blow our cover. But he did praise his special agents of espionage. I believed we deserved every accolade we received. 

Following my success in 11, I was retrieved and returned to the Capitol to be outfitted and reprogrammed for my next mission. I arrived in District 12 on a spring day. Delivered by one of my creators in a crate, I was handed over to the Head Peacekeeper. Peacekeeper Cray was not the brightest bulb but he did not have to be. Unlike other spying Mutts before me, we did not rely on the locals to transmit data. All I needed was my crate. 

I remember the first time I laid eyes on Peacekeeper Cray. My handler opened my crate and I walked out in all my majestic glory. “A cat? The Capitol sent me a cat? What the hell is this cat supposed to do?” I swatted his hand and hissed to make it clear, I was NO PET and that was not acceptable behavior.

“Be very clear,” my creator said. “This is no ordinary cat. This cat is worth 10 of you and if anything happens to this cat, it will be your neck.”

“What does it do? How does it work?” he said as he stood a safe distance from my claws.

“All you need to know is that cats like this one have been responsible for bringing down Rebel groups throughout Panem. You are only needed to find a safe place outside for this crate where he can return to it and it won’t get stolen, and he will do the rest.” He then turned to me and with a salute, wished me luck. As he left, he had parting words to Cray. “And if you can leave him a little food from time to time, he’d appreciate it. He likes tuna.”

I followed Cray outside as he placed my crate between two barrels near his trash receptacles. It was acceptable. The entrance was hidden so other creatures wouldn’t disturb me and I could transmit my report to the capitol in peace. I was really quite fond of that crate. After my last successful mission, I was rewarded with a comfy pad. I inspected my crate then double-checked my mission.

Target: Abernathy, Haymitch  
District: 12  
Occupation: Quarter Quell Victor

My first Victor mission. This was going to be fun.

I wasted no time and headed out of the Peacekeepers barracks and into the town. My internal mapping software led me through the Merchant sector. It wasn’t much of a town in comparison to some I’d seen, but my background information stated that 12 held the smallest population of the Districts. The Merchants seemed relatively well fed. The town was bustling with activity. I found the road to Victor’s Village quite easily but it wasn’t much of a road. Unpaved and muddy from recent rains, I knew grooming would be a challenge while on this assignment. My readouts informed me that Abernathy, Haymitch lived in the house furthest from the entrance gate. I made my way past empty house after empty house. I was informed that 12 had only had two Victors and my target was the last one living. 

I found the house to be closed up tight, no windows open or doors left ajar. In fact if it weren’t for the piles of trash strewn across the lawn, there would have been no sign of life. I did notice a cracked windowpane leading to the basement. As a last resort, I would find a way to shatter that glass to allow entry but I hoped that would not be necessary. Abernathy, Haymitch led a solitary life. Although I was a stealth expert, I hoped he would invite me in. It would save time in the long run if I didn’t have to sneak. 

After nightfall there was a stirring inside the house and a figure dressed in rags and reeking of alcohol and vomit left the premises. He cursed under his breath while he attempted to lock the door behind him. I double-checked my information. This man, if you could call him that he was closer to a creature than I was. He looked nothing like the photos I was shown. This man was beaten down, with slumped shoulders and shuffling steps. His face was covered by his long greasy hair and a beard. All the images of the target I had seen showed a scruffy yet arrogant Victor. This man was the town drunk. I would need to check DNA for further identification. I tailed at a safe distance from the potential target, not revealing myself too soon. To my surprise, he did not follow the road back to the Merchant sector, instead turned north into the part of 12 my information informed me was called the Seam. If the Merchant sector was dusty, this place was truly filthy. Rutted dirt paths, cat-knee deep in mud. Puddles and dirty children were everywhere.

Children were a liability for F-CATS. They either wanted to keep you hostage or torture you. Back then, I did not fear much, but I feared children. I wanted to jump on a fence and walk it through the mud but that would make me too visible. My only choices were to crawl low to the ground and risk mud on my belly or increase my distance from the potential target. From a distance, I watched him enter what looked like a broken down warehouse. My first attempts to enter this building were thwarted by boots pushing me away from the door. The first couple of kicks were gentle but a large man with extremely large feet stole my breath as he kicked me away on my third attempt. I’ll never forget his words, “Get out of here cat! Or Sae will put you in the stew.” Perhaps, I thought, this mission will be more dangerous than I was led to believe.

Once I was breathing normally again, I explored around the building and found multiple points of entry for a talented CAT like myself. Using one, I entered the building to find a non-Capitol sanctioned market. Stalls were set up and there was trading happening all around. I saw no money changing hands, only goods. I slipped from stall to stall looking for a sign of my potential target until my enhanced hearing picked up the sound of coins being laid down in payment. Who would have Capitol coins here other than a Victor? I followed the sound until I found him, slipping glass bottles filled with clear liquid into his coat pockets. I tried to get a higher position to look at his face but was once again shooed away with a threat of “Feeding you to Sae.” I remember thinking this Sae must be a fearsome beast to hold this district in such fear.

Enough pussyfooting around. I could not submit my first report back to my handlers without laying eyes on my target. As potential target Abernathy, Haymitch began to leave the building, I performed a maneuver called the weave of death. Nearly harmless on flat ground, if performed correctly on a victim at the top of a staircase it can cause a nasty fall and possibly a broken a neck. I had never been tasked with that kind of wet works but my fellow F-CAT, 6, specialized in it.

Weaving between the potential target’s legs as he walked succeeded in making the man stumble, as he reached to the ground to stop his fall, his pant leg shifted up, leaving an ankle unguarded. A quick swipe of my claw into flesh drew blood. The man reacted to the scratch with a yelp but did nothing. He was more concerned about the safety of the bottles tucked in his pockets. Analysis through my nail DNA sampler confirmed I was indeed looking at the target.

I followed at a larger distance and watched as Abernathy, Haymitch returned to his home and locked the door behind him. Satisfied with my day’s work, I returned to my crate. Rubbing up against the sensor on the side, the door opened. I took the time to groom the dirt from my fur before lying on my pad. As the door shut again, I dilated my pupils for the scanner. The green light found the transmitters in the back of my left eye and my report was sent to a handler in command. I received a message back.

Continue Surveillance of the target, report any suspicious activity.

Message received. I slept and dreamt of the glory I would know if I found a Quarter Quell Victor to be a rebel.

***

Months passed and little progress was made. The marketplace called the Hob by the locals yielded very little intel. Abernathy, Haymitch on his weekly visits did little more than stumble in, purchase what I had learned to be ‘white liquor’ and stumble home.

I had to be careful when traveling through the Seam. My initial observation that this part of town was in much more dire shape than the Merchant sector was correct. The children showed visible signs of malnutrition. I noticed that despite the poor sanitation, there were no rodents to be seen. I suspected and would later confirm, that starving children will eat anything. A cat would be a feast. I used my enhanced hearing to listen to the Target’s every step while following from the outskirts of the sector for my safety. I heard his feet shuffle along, I heard him grunt in response to children’s taunts. He would lose his balance every so often. I watched children follow behind and it took a few trips for me to figure out why. It wasn’t because they admired their Victor. I observed that when he would leave his home on these treks there would be a number of Capitol coins in his pocket. He would pay the woman known as Ripper for the liquor and there would still be coins remaining. After every trip through the Seam when he would return to his home, there would be no sound of coins. The children who followed him were looking for coins that fell out of his pockets.

I reported to my handlers that Abernathy, Haymitch had been frequenting an illegal place of trade, purchasing prohibited liquor, and possibly distributing his Victor’s winnings to the district, a violation of the Victor Rules. My handlers instructed that I continue surveillance. I understood that these were minor infractions and they were looking for more serious charges.

Abernathy, Haymitch was a drunk this was no doubt. As far as I could tell, he would go days without purchasing food from the town, but his trips to the Hob were like clockwork with little variation so when something different did happen, I was alert to it. One day near the beginning of June, Abernathy, Haymitch’s well trodden path the Hob was blocked by a lone peacekeeper in full gear. Abernathy, Haymitch stumbled and found he was staring at the chest plate of the Peacekeeper. He straightened himself up to his full height and stared directly into the facemask of the helmet. The Peacekeeper then flipped up his visor. Abernathy nodded and sidestepped around him and continued on his way. My sensors did not detect anything said between them, just the nod. I tried to catch sight of the face of the Peacekeeper for identification but my photo returned a “No Match Found” message. 

Capitol face recognition is extremely advanced but I considered that maybe my photo was taken from too far away to provide a searchable image. But something bothered me about the whole interaction. I did not follow the target into the HOB for his weekly trade, instead found a quiet corner.

If I were to be discovered, a human would think they stumbled on a sleeping cat, but the reality of the situation was that behind my closed eyes I was reviewing my footage. Something was odd about that Peacekeeper. Since he was alone, he could not have been on duty, Peacekeepers patrol in tandem. Off duty, they were not allowed to wear the uniform, let alone the combat helmet. But something else bothered me. The boots! They weren’t standard issue boots. These were black but they laced up instead of the buckles of the Peacekeeper boots. Put this with the failed facial recognition and I knew I was on to something. That night, I had to break into the home in Victor’s Village.

I checked out all the possible entry points to his home. Once again finding the house sealed up tightly, I knew my only hope was to break the cracked basement window. This would not be easy but over the last few weeks I had developed a plan. If I were observed executing this plan, my cover as an ordinary stray would be blown, so I had to complete this mission before the target returned home.

Abernathy, Haymitch did not do much of anything and that included yard work. There was a rake with a heavy metal head leaning against the wall near the back porch. It had not been touched in quite awhile judging by the rust. 

Step one: get the rake on the ground. This was easily accomplished by leaping from the porch railing onto the handle. The handle then fell to the ground with me.

Step two: Get the rake to the window. Here’s where my skills as an F-CAT came into play. I wiggled my head under the rake head and stood up. The rake head was hooked over my back. I had to walk on an angle and very slowly as I drug the handle behind.

Step Three: This step was more difficult. I had to somehow find a way to launch this rake toward the window with enough force to break the existing crack a bit more. I used my skills and assessed the approach. After I positioned myself I hunkered down low, then sprung upward, arching my back up and launching the rake a few inches in the air. I slipped out from under it and hear it crack against the window. Partial success.

Step Four: Now that the rake was in the windowsill and in position against the glass, I used the edge of the window-well as a fulcrum and jumped on the handle that was sticking up. As I landed on the handle, pushing it down, the rake head went up and fell back into the glass as I jumped off the handle. There was another crack but it had not broken through. Just then, my hearing picked up Abernathy, Haymitch returning home, I knew I only had one more shot. I lept again and this time the window shattered.

I found a perch outside of the house to listen in. There seemed to be no change to the target’s routine. After returning home, he opened one of the bottles he purchased, and drank directly from the bottle then retired to his bedroom and collapsed on the bed. I returned to my crate to relay that day’s details.

My handlers were pleased. I was tasked with identifying the “Peacekeeper” and to increase my surveillance of the target.

As the sun rose in the east, I hunkered down on my comfy pad. The target would sleep to nightfall. I would do the same. Perhaps when I woke, I thought, I would be awarded with a bit of tuna.

***

The target does not leave his home for the next week and I have begun my indoor surveillance. I must say, that I am disgusted. As a cat, I crave cleanliness. Target Abernathy, Haymitch obviously did not. While he slept the day away, I made a study of the first floor. I went first to the kitchen, pretended to look for food. This place would have been a gold mine to an ordinary cat. There were cans of food open and left on the counter and discarded bones full of meat. A cat could eat for a week but I found nothing to report back to command. The next room was a dining room and a thick layer of dust covered every surface. 

I moved on the living room. It was a horror show of filth. A tattered easy chair sat in the center of the room. Blankets covered the cushions; there were pieces of foam sticking out from the ends. The chair bore the shape of the backside of the man who must have spent all of his waking moments in it. Empty liquor bottles littered the floor and any flat surface. Beside the chair I found stacks of books. They were all pre-dark ages. This was a fortune in ancient reading material. I scanned the titles through my database and found that each one was a banned edition. They were history books; 1776, Europe: A History, The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, The French Revolution from Enlightenment to Tyranny. They were all books the Capitol had labeled dangerous and subversive. 

I remember thinking, “If I get nothing else, I can get him on this.” 

I memorized the position of every thing so if I needed to return, I would know if anything had been moved. There was one door however that remained shut. Plans to the Victor’s homes told me it was an office. I needed to get into that room but it remained closed every time I patrolled the house. I set a balled up piece of paper in front of the door. If Abernathy, Haymitch opened the door while I was gone, I would know.

After a week of patrols, I had memorized the entire house and that paper ball had not moved. I began taking strolls through the merchant sector in hopes of spotting the imposter Peacekeeper. 

On Abernathy, Haymitch’s night to go the Hob I followed close at his heels. The Peacekeeper did not show. I followed into the Hob and I watched as he stumbled to the one armed woman’s booth. I watched as he shuffled out again and headed back through the Seam. I watched as he did his fake falls, and “spilled” some coins for the kids to pick up. The children came from nowhere, like the stealth beasts they are to scoop up the coins. Two boys began to fight over one of the coins. Then suddenly their shouting cut off, they stared over the Target’s shoulders for a moment before they scampered away into the night. The Peacekeeper stood in front of Abernathy, Haymitch. Again, not a word was said. I watched as the imposter Peacekeeper pushed Abernathy, Haymitch and he pushed back. They scuffled, shoving each other. Anyone else might not have noticed but being trained to sense the small things, I saw the imposter slip his fisted hand into Abernathy, Haymitch’s coat pocket. The hand emerged empty. I suspected he deposited something small. I attempted once again to gain a facial recognition but again, it came back no match found. As quickly as it started, the scuffle ended without a word said. They headed in opposite directions.

Having failed to make identification, I decided to follow the Peacekeeper. The Target would most likely return home but this man would slip away if I did not follow. I took off running after the fake peacekeeper. Just as I was about to clear the residential area of the Seam, the children returned and spotted me.

“There’s a cat! Let’s get it!” One of the children called out and suddenly four dirty little urchins were chasing me. I had to perform some advanced evasive maneuvers to lose them. I climbed a tree, jumped onto a roof and across to a second roof then jumped down onto a shed and into a broken window. I watched as the urchins ran past me. I waited for a few minutes until the coast was clear. Determined to find the Peacekeeper again, I put my nose in the air to catch his scent. 

I followed the scent at full speed and saw him heading toward the empty warehouses behind the Hob. By the time I caught up, all I found was a pile of Peacekeeper white armor tucked into a crate. I sniffed around and check it out. It seemed to all be there, except the boots. I sniffed the air again, this time for the specific scent of the boots. It led me around a corner and straight into the group of kids from earlier. They had their backs to me and did not see me, so I slunk down close to the ground and backed away before they did. I was forced to abandon my pursuit.

I returned instead to the target’s residence, I entered through my window and found him, as I usually did, face down in his bed. I sniffed his jacket and smelled nothing unusual. I put my head in the pocket and I found nothing.

On my way out, I noticed my piece of paper had moved. The dust on the floor showed that the door had been recently opened but was closed again.

I had to find a way into that room but my day was done and it was a miserable failure. I returned to my crate to make my report. They would not be happy with me. An exchange was clearly made and not only did I lose the imposter peacekeeper, I failed to recover the object.

***

As suspected, Command was not pleased. Not only did I let the imposter get away, but also I failed to see who picked up the abandoned uniform. I returned to the alley at dawn only to find the uniform gone and it had rained that night so there was no scent to follow. There would be no tuna this week and if I didn’t redeem myself I feared they would send Head Peacekeeper Cray to take my pad. “He better be prepared to bleed if he tries,” I thought.

My only hope of redemption was to find out what was handed to Abernathy, Haymitch. His usual routine would have him sound asleep at this time, so I made my way to his residence. In case I was discovered, I made sure to make myself look like any old stray cat that wandered in off the street instead of the technical marvel I truly was. But I must admit, sometimes I would feel my feline instincts kick in and I couldn’t resist certain urges. While passing the kitchen, the urge to eat as much as I could, because I didn’t know when my next meal was coming was strong. A part of my mind was reminding me, there would be no tuna this week so wouldn’t this chicken bone be a nice substitute. I’ll admit it now, I strayed from my mission long enough to eat a meaty chicken leg. 

I listened for Abernathy, Haymitch to awaken but heard nothing. I left the kitchen to investigate the next room, the dining room was left untouched since I mapped it. My sensors detected that the dust had not been disturbed. As I moved into the sitting room, there were more bottles and a book was left open and laying on the arm of the chair. The title was Benjamin Franklin, An American Life, another banned book.

I recorded my findings and was about to move on to the next room when I heard him wake upstairs. I listened as he relieved himself. I would not leave without getting into the office. It was time to let myself be seen and put on the poor kitty look. It’s demeaning yes, but effective.

I could hear his body creak as much as the stairs do as he came down. He went to the kitchen where he began to bang on an appliance. I walked up to him and rubbed against his leg. He kicked me away, surprised but unconcerned at finding an intruder in his home. 

“How the hell did you get in here? Thought I had that damn back door fixed. Go on now, shoo!” He kicked at me again but made no contact. I jumped on the counter and then on top of the wall cabinets to get the height advantage. I hissed for good measure.

Abernathy, Haymitch grabbed a chair from the kitchen table and brought it over to the cabinet. He climbed up on it and attempted to grab me.

I was not one for being touched. So I swatted and drew blood on the back of his hand. “You son of a - ,” He cursed I jumped to another cabinet, forcing Abernathy, Haymitch to climb off the chair and move it underneath my new perch. Just as he set it down, a loud clap of thunder rolled over the district and was immediately followed by a downpour of heavy rain.

“Fine,” he said. “Stay there. When the rain stops, you’re out of here.” Abernathy, Haymitch took a dark brown bitter beverage and headed to the office. I jumped down and followed. I remember he turned and looked at me, “Don’t push your luck. If I catch you, I’ll give you to Greasy Sae and she’ll put you in the stew.” Again, I was threatened with this Greasy Sae. I was convinced she must be a fearsome ogre. Or maybe she did not really exist at all. Maybe she was instead a fictional character made up by the town-folk to threaten bad children. “Behave or I’ll give you to Greasy Sae.”

Haymitch opened the office door and I made a break for it but the old drunk was surprisingly quick when he wasn’t drinking and he closed his legs, trapping me on the outside and the door quickly shut. I listened as I heard him boot up a computer. It sounded old and antiquated. I was getting nowhere. I needed in that room. I howled a loud and throaty, the world is going to end kind of howl. If he wouldn’t let me in, I would make it impossible for him to concentrate until he opened the door to make me stop. I have to admit, I was having fun. I could hear his groans, curses at me. I was enjoying myself. I would stop for a few minutes, giving him false hope, but then I would start again louder and a different song each time. 

“Shut up!” He yelled as he threw something against the door. I heard him get up from a chair. Seconds later he cracked the door just an inch and I was able to get my head in, then my shoulders, then I was in, right between his legs. Haymitch, Abernathy returned to the desk and I began to record what I saw on the screen. I hit the jackpot.

THIS WAS IT. I had the names of 20 Victors who were all part of the rebellion. I was going to go down in history. I was going to stop the second rebellion against the Capitol. There would be statues in my honor. 

Just as he was getting to the plans for the next uprising, lightning struck outside and the power went out. Abernathy, Haymitch swore under his breath. With my night vision I watched as he removed a device from the side of the computer and put it in his pant pocket. 

“Study time over!” He said has he turned his chair around to face a table set with crystal decanters. He poured a large glass of an amber colored drink and gulped it down. “This calls for the good stuff.” He said as he drank a second glass a bit slower.

I should have left. I had the names of the rebellion leaders. It would have been enough to ensure I kept my pad and maybe even got some tuna. But I thought, if I get everything, maybe I would have been able to leave this filthy district. Maybe I could retire with my pad in a nice warm window overlooking the Capitol. I stayed. Waiting for the lights to come back on. I watched as he lit candles around the living room and set a few on the table next to his chair. He sat down with his glass and pulled out a book. He held it in one hand and a glass in the other. He would set the book down to turn a page, but the drink never left his hand. When he finished the third glass of the “good stuff” he returned to the white alcohol from the Hob. He tried to read his book, The Destruction of Democracy, but the alcohol was taking over and he began to nod off. I sat near him, watching, silently. His head fell to the side as he fell into a deep sleep. I thought this might be my only chance. I carefully approached him and had planned to cut a hole in his pocket with one of my nails to retrieve the object, but as I came nearer, his body jerked violently but he did not wake. He was having a nightmare. His legs pumped as if he was running in his sleep and his drink spilled. When his eyes sprung open he screamed, and I froze. Sitting on the arm of his chair, my tail was twitching in annoyance. He narrowed his eyes and tried to focus on me. “You! You’re no ordinary cat are you?” I tried to show no emotion but my cat instincts made my tail swish again. “What are you?” He stood up. “You’re going to kill me aren’t you, Mutt. Not if I kill you first.” I jumped away to a high perch on a nearby bookcase. Outside lightning was striking.

A knife appeared in his hand, out of nowhere. He threw his bottle of white liquor just missing me but drenching my tail. He attempted to chase me but stumbled. Aided by my night vision, I moved about the room, leading him into furniture but he was relentless. I wasn’t afraid, he was too drunk and I was too quick. I was not leaving without that device or the information on it.

Eventually, tired of the game I was playing, he stopped. He stood in the middle of the room, swinging his knife wildly and yelling “Nasty Mutts” and “You got Maisy but you won’t get me!” Just then the lights came back on, and he saw me standing on the back of his chair. Abernathy, Haymitch lunged for me but stumbled and fell head first into his chair, jostling the table with his bottle just as I was fleeing across it. The candle must have tipped over and lit the alcohol on fire because next thing I knew, he abandoned his attack to put out the fire. 

I ran for my window to escape into the night. I planned to return to my crate to report my findings. I smelled the acrid odor of burned hair first before I realized that my tail, previously drenched in alcohol must have grazed the flame of the candle. I was on fire! I yowled, this time for real and I slipped out the broken glass pane. The fire on my tail got bigger as I ran. I had hoped the rain would put it out but it had let up. As I ran the fire fed on the oxygen and got bigger. I ran aimlessly, trying to outrun the pain that was quickly spreading. I ran for the woods behind Victor’s Village. There was a small creek out there if I could get to it, I could put this fire out. I ran, crying out in agony and fear.

And then with a loud crack, the world went black.


	2. Part Two:  The Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Badly damaged while spying on Abernathy, Haymitch FCAT9 needs help but it doesn't come from the Capitol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Katnissdoesnotfollowback for her editing skills. This was written over 9 months. It took a lot of work. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone - you know who you are - for keeping the interest in this alive.

reboot initiated…

I became aware of the wetness first. I was in a puddle and soaked through. Next I heard a buzzing noise, familiar but strange. Then came the pain and everything else didn’t matter. I couldn’t pull myself out of the puddle without crying in agony.

I performed a self-diagnostic. I was burned severely from the tip of my tail to my shoulders. My hair was singed and one of my eyes was swollen shut. There was blood coming from my ears and I was missing a few teeth.

Physical ailments would heal. It was the hardware inside of me that was of concern. My mapping system was down. I could not pinpoint my position. My left eye was not functioning.

I tried to piece together what had happened. The house in Victor’s Village. I remembered the fight with Abernathy, Haymitch. But why were we fighting? THE INTEL! The list of Victors turned rebels. I checked my memory bank, and to my horror it was empty. Erased. The system reboot wiped my recordings. It was all gone. 

All was not lost, I would simply return to the Target’s home and retrieve the device.

I tried to walk, but with each step, the pain grew more unbearable. I remembered getting doused with the white liquor and the candles. I remember the fire but that doesn’t explain the other physical injuries and the system reboot. The buzzing noise... The perimeter fence. In my panic to put out the fire, I ran into the electrified fence. It was rarely on but they must have reset it when they brought the power back on-line. I must have run face first, it would explain the eye and the missing teeth. The power surge must have fried my circuits, causing the reboot.

I needed to return to my crate to repair what was damaged and hopefully restore the lost recordings but it was going to be a painful walk back, especially without navigation. Step after step the pain became too much, somewhere in the middle of the meadow, I laid down and prepared to die. 

Perhaps it was my engineering or maybe just my will to live, but I survived the day and the night, and woke again in the morning. My wounds were still painful but I could move. My need for hydration overruled the pain. Step by agonizing step, I made my way across the field to the edge of town. I drank my fill from a mud puddle along side the Hob. Without my mapping software, I couldn’t say exactly how far I was from my crate. I found a crevice between two buildings. It provided a safe place to nap. That night I dreamed of the comfort of my crate. Would my handlers retrieve me so I could recover in peace in the capitol or would they send remedies to heal me here? Would they restore my memory banks? Could they? I needed to get back to my crate. It was my only chance. 

As dawn was breaking, I crossed the path leading to Head Peacekeeper Cray’s residence. I know I called out in relief when I saw my crate. I walked up to the sensor and rubbed against it. It did not open. I tried to pull the door open with my feet but my strength waned. My pad was on the other side of that wire door and I couldn’t get to it. I tried the sensor again. It didn’t work. I yowled. Perhaps Cray would hear me. Head Peacekeeper Cray was not the caring type but perhaps fear for his job would bring him out to check on me. It didn’t. I slept with my half burnt nose pressed to the wire of my crate door.

It was the sound of raised voices that woke me. Head Peacekeeper Cray was shouting at a holo of one of my handlers. 

“You want me to look for the body of a dead cat?”

“We cannot allow this technology to fall into the hands of the rebels. It is imperative that if F-CAT9 is indeed deceased; we need the body retrieved.”

“You mean to tell me, there are no trackers in these things?”

“As I’ve said, the tracker went offline 3 nights ago. We have not been able to raise a signal.”

“Three nights ago we had a torrential storm. It’s quite possible your cat was washed away in the river or drowned.”

“Then Head Peacekeeper Cray, I suggest you begin walking the river.”

“Sir, this is district 12. A drowned cat is not a body for long. It becomes a dinner.”

“I’d hope that’s not the case. I will be there to pick up the crate in two days. You better have a dead cat.”

“Yes, Sir.” 

There was a click sound as the holo disengaged. Head Peacekeeper Cray grumbled to his empty office. “I have better things to do than look for a stupid dead cat. Who does he think he is? ‘That cat is worth 10 of you’,” he mocked, recalling his first conversation with my handler. “but the damn thing can’t live through a rainstorm.”

I was saved. All I needed to do was to show Cray that I was alive and he’d contact my handler. Or so I thought, I did not take into account the idiocy of Head Peacekeeper Cray or the fact that he was drunk so early in the morning.

I got as close to the window of his office as I could. I could have crawled in if I weren’t so injured. Instead I called out, yowled with all my might. Soon he came stumbling around the corner and spotted me near my crate.

“Well what do we have here? Looks like the kitty is hurt. Awe poor little kitty. You look like shit.” 

I should have played along but I really hated to be called ‘kitty.’ And before I could think about what I was doing. I swatted at his hand and drew blood. 

“You son of a …” My reflexes were slowed or he never would have gotten a hold of me. But he did and he began to choke me. I clawed at him with my back legs. He loosened his grip as he tried to get away from my sharp nails. Finally, I was able to twist my body and free myself from his grip. I gasped for breath as I tried desperately to find an escape but I was hemmed in. I attempted to jump over a crate to reach a ledge around the building. It was high enough to be out of Peacekeeper Cray’s reach and would allow me to flee the alley I was trapped in, but my legs were weak and my jump was short, I could not reach the ledge. My front claws dug into the wood, as my back legs scrambled for footing. I was not going to give up. A hand clasped around the scruff of my neck and I was pulled away. I must have cried out because he said:

“Quit your squawking you mangy beast. It will all be over soon. That Capitol Muckity Muck already thinks you’re dead. All I need is a body.”

He walked over to the rain barrel that was full from the storms. He held me away from his body and tried to shove me under the water. One of my front claws grabbed the side of the barrel and I struggled to keep from going under. As he reached down to use his other hand to pry my nails away, I was luckily in a position to bite. And bite I did. I bit his hand so deeply that I swear I hit bone. It was painful to do with my jaw in the state it was but it was my last attempt to stay alive. Blood filled my mouth and Head Peacekeeper Cray yelled. 

He abandoned his attempt to drown me but he did not release me with his uninjured hand. Instead, he threw me hard against the brick wall. I hit with such force, the world went black for a moment. I felt and heard something pop. My injured eye was dislodged and when I hit the wall and it fell at my feet. There was no pain, it was a Capitol device, meant to be removed. Peacekeeper Cray attempted to stop the bleeding on his hand but as I rose to my feet, I drew his attention. He reached for me but the pain in his hand made him withdraw. I saw an escape route and I took it. I scrambled up to a windowsill and from there, I hopped to another until I was on the roof of the neighboring building. Once I was a safe distance away, I looked back to see Peacekeeper Cray, reach down and pick up my eye. He rolled it through the fingers of his uninjured hand. I could see the look of realization on his face when he figured out what he held. He would give it to the Capitol as proof of my death. I was on my own.

I did not know where to go so I decided to return to the last safe place I had known, the crack between the two buildings near the Hob. As I made my way across the town, I began to register the pain again. The adrenaline that kept me alive earlier was now gone, leaving only pain and exhaustion. When I made it back, I collapsed or maybe passed out would be a better term. I didn’t even bother to hide, just curled up with my back against a cold metal wall.

I heard their voices before I opened my eyes. Eye, I was reminded quickly.

“Oh, Katniss, he needs our help.”

“Prim, he’s a feral cat. He’ll never be a pet.” 

“You don’t know that. Maybe he was someone’s pet who is lost.”

“Prim, do you know anyone who has a pet cat?”

“You don’t know everything, Katniss.”

I felt myself being lifted off the ground and suddenly warmed as I was slipped into a coat. I let out a whimper and was shushed by a sweet voice.

I don’t know how long it was before I was awake again but I know I awoke to the same sweet voice.

“Hey you’re awake. I knew you’d make it. My mom said you wouldn’t but I told her you would because you’re a very brave cat and you needed a family.”

I remember mewing and her sweet little smiling face. She brought me a bowl of water and patiently dripped it slowly into my mouth as she continued talking.

“I don’t know what happened to you but you were sure beat up. My sister thinks you lost a fight with another cat or a raccoon. I said that you were too smart to get into a fight with a raccoon and no other cat could beat you so that couldn’t be it.”

I could feel her putting something onto my wounds. There was pain but not terrible like before. I must have cried out because it upset her.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts but you were burned pretty badly. How does a cat get burned? Did a person do it to you? I know some kids who like to torment kitties. Don’t worry I won’t let them do that to you ever again. I hate to tell you something, but you lost your eye. It’s gone but it’s not infected so that’s a good thing. You’ll just have to wink at everyone.” She giggled a sweet little laugh.

As I’ve said before, I hated children but this one was different, she was very composed for her age. With her big blue eyes and blonde hair, I figured I must be in the Merchant sector of the town. “Do you want something to eat? My sister gave me some entrails to feed you when you were feeling better?”

I remember thinking, entrails? They sounded disgusting until I smelled them. My jaw was sore but they were soft and I was able to eat. It was delicious and the first sustenance I’d had in what must have been days. I could hear myself hum as I ate. My little caregiver’s face lit up. “There you go! I have to go to school now but don’t worry, I’ll be back. You just lay here and get better. See, I’ll put some water by your head so you don’t have to get up if you want any. There’s a box over there if you need to use it but I don’t think you’ll need it just yet. Maybe tomorrow and I’ll help hold you up if you need me. Ok, now. I got to go. Hey, you’re going to need a name now that you’re feeling better. I’ll think about it while I’m at school. Get some sleep now.”

I did as my little caregiver asked and slipped back to sleep. I awoke to her excited voice as she called to me from inside the house. “I’m here, Buttercup!” The door to the small cupboard she had me in opened and she was once again kneeling beside me. I felt strong enough to rise up on my front paws.

“Do you like your new name? I’m going to call you Buttercup because when your hair grows back you’re going to be a beautiful cat and you have the prettiest orangey hair, like a buttercup flower. We’re all flowers in this family. My name is Primrose but everyone calls me Prim. My mom is Iris and my sister is Katniss, which is a weird white flower that grows in swamps.” 

I never had a real name before and as far as names go, it wasn’t terrible. She could have called me “Kitty” or something equally demeaning. It really didn’t matter what she called me, when I was better, I would move on. Somehow find my way back to the capitol. My mission may be scrapped but I would make it back to control.

She was gently looking at my wounds when she squealed. “Katniss! Come here look he’s awake and getting better and he hasn’t scratched me once. He knows he’s part of the family now.” She pulled a dark haired girl down to the cupboard. “This is my sister, Katniss. Meet Buttercup.”

“You named him Buttercup?” The dark haired girl laughed at the name and the smile on my little caretaker, Primrose’s face fell. 

“What’s wrong with Buttercup? He’s going to be a beautiful cat when he gets better and he deserves a beautiful name. He likes it.”

“Prim, it’s a girl’s name and he’s a boy cat.”

“It is not. It’s a flower and he needs to be a flower just like us.”

The dark girl laughed again and I hissed at her in reply.

“Yeah, he’s really tame, Prim.” Sister, Katniss said and walked away.

“Don’t mind her. She’s just like that. She says mean things but she’s not mean. She’s the one who got the entrails for you.”

“Prim, dinner’s ready, go wash up after touching that cat.” Sister, Katniss called from across the room.

“I’m gonna leave your door open from now on, if you want to try to walk and come out to see us. You still have to meet my mom. She’s upstairs. She doesn’t come down very often. She’s sad.”

Little Primrose carefully avoided my injuries and pet my head. I was flooded with a strange feeling. I couldn’t name it then, and wouldn’t be able to name it for a long time. I would learn later, it was love.

Later that night I was awoken by a soft voice whispering my new name. 

“Buttercup, are you awake?” My cupboard door was opened all the way and I saw my Primrose in a threadbare nightshirt.

“I had a nightmare,” she said as she hugged her legs to her chest. I lifted my head and allowed her to stroke it. It seemed to calm her. “The reaping is tomorrow and I’m scared,” She spoke to me as if I were capable of a conversation. “I am too little for the Hunger Games, I’m only 10. But Katniss, Katniss is 14 and I know she took tesserae. She won’t admit it to me but I’m not dumb. I know she did.” 

She shifted seating herself on the floor and crossed her legs in front of her, creating a nice lap with her thin legs. For the first time I noticed how thin she was and I knew for sure that despite her blonde hair, we were in the Seam.

“She always takes care of me and Mom. I don’t know what would happen to us if she went into the Hunger Games and never came home. She feeds us.” This child had so little yet she shared it with me. I needed to return the favor. I was not programmed for human affection. And cats in general have to learn to trust humans but I would give it a try. Despite the creaking of my bones and the crackling of my injured skin, I brought myself to my feet for the first time in days. I stepped warily on the thigh nearest me and looked up at her watery blue eyes. I took two more steps and curled up between her legs. I wanted to tell her everything I was programmed to know about the reaping, that it was an honor to represent your district and she should be proud if her sister is chosen. But she was a small child and she didn’t understand those things. All she knew was she’d lose her sister and she was sad.

“You understand, don’t you boy? You’re my best friend.” As she stroked my head I heard an odd noise. Not quite a buzz, more like an engine running. It was loud, and nearby. I wasn’t quite sure what it was but it dawned on me that the noise was coming from me. I was purring for the first time in my existence. I was purring and it felt good and it made my Primrose feel better.

The next day was a somber one as Sister, Katniss prepared for the reaping. At 14, she was tiny and wiry. She wouldn’t stand a chance against the other stronger districts. I hoped the odds were not in her favor and she would not be given the honor to be a Tribute. Primrose needed her. I watched as Primrose left the house with her mother, clutching her sister’s hand and whimpering.

That afternoon, they all returned - Sister, Katniss included but there was no joy. 

“Katniss, do you have anything we can give the Stonebeck family?” My Primrose asked. “They’re gonna be so scared for Tommy.”

“I know Prim,” Sister, Katniss said. “I’ll see if I can get something tomorrow.”

Primrose came to sit next to me. She whispered so her sister across the room couldn’t hear. “Katniss is safe this year. It was a girl we don’t know. She’s a lot older than Katniss. But the boy is from just a few houses away. He has brothers and sisters but he’s in the middle so it’s not so bad. It’s always sad when it’s the oldest ‘cause they take care of the littler ones. And it’s sad when the littlest ones go too cause they never stand a chance. I’d never make it. I couldn’t hurt a soul. Katniss says, I’d come across another Tribute and I’d tend to their wounds instead of hurt them.”

I spent the rest of the summer recovering and trying to figure out a way to complete my mission. As pleasant as my young caretaker was, I had a job to do and I was programmed to die in the attempt.

Come fall, my wounds were healed except for a bald patch at the base of my tail that would always be bare. My jaw allowed me to eat solid food again and I had regained muscle. I was anxious to get out of the house to test my stamina. One warm fall day Sister, Katniss headed out of the house early. I noticed that when she returned she usually brought meat. I saw an opportunity to brush up my surveillance skills. I followed at a distance and watched in horror as she headed toward the perimeter fence. I may have been a fearless secret agent in the service of the President, but I was no fool. Sister, Katniss approached the fence and hesitated a moment then ducked under a hole at the base. I watched as she disappeared into the forest beyond. I decided to find a warm spot and wait for her return. From the top of a warm rock in the middle of the meadow, I could see the entire district below me. The sun was warm on my fur and there was a gentle breeze blowing. The air was full of wonderful scents. I was alive. It wasn’t long before she returned with two dead rabbits hanging from her hands. To my surprise she did not head back to her home, instead once through the meadow, she headed down the path to the Hob. 

I was reminded of my failed mission and my perfect day began to darken. Sister, Katniss strode into the Hob filled with disreputable men even at this early hour. I decided to follow to make sure nothing happened to her. I found the broken window I used to make my entrance. I stayed above the crowd and tried out my enhanced hearing. It worked. I watched Sister, Katniss as she approached the old woman selling soup.

“Hey Girlie, wacha got for me today?” 

“A rabbit, it was a good morning.”

“Anyway I could talk you into both?”

“Naw, sorry. This one’s for Mom’s birthday. I’ll get you an extra tomorrow.”

“I’ll take what I can get. Usual?”

“Yes, please.” I watched as the old woman slipped a coin across the table. “Thanks, see you tomorrow, Sae.”

SAE? Did she say SAE? I rewound the audio in my head and she really did. THIS was the fearsome Sae? This was the creature I was threatened with time and time again. There must be more to her. My curiosity got the best of me and I crept in for a closer look. 

No, she was just a gnarled old woman. She wasn’t fearsome at all. 

At least that’s what I thought until she took out a rusty cleaver. With one whack, a cut and tug, she skinned the rabbit in seconds and had it quartered and simmering in the pot in the blink of an eye. I was out of there and headed home. 

Before I reached the door of the house, I could hear the panicked voice of sweet Primrose. 

“But where is he Katniss? He’s still weak. He shouldn’t be out there.”

When I walked in the open window, I was engulfed in the tiny arms of my girl. With kisses to my head she welcomed me home and asked me to never scare her again. 

Later that evening we were joined by another family, Primrose introduces me to them one by one. The two in the middle seemed OK, both eager to please Primrose and hung on her every word. The youngest though was all sticky grabby hands that would pet just a bit too hard and pull what fur I had. I let my annoyance be known and was shooed out of the room. The tallest Hawthorne was at the time a tall boy of about 16. He was tall enough to be a man and moody enough to give even old Abernathy, Haymitch a run for grumpiest human. He was not very fond of me. I overheard him whispering to Sister, Katniss.

“How long are you going to let this go on?” he said with a shove to her tiny shoulder. She brushed him off.

“What go on?”

“Prim and that cat. You know cats don’t last long in the Seam. He’s going to disappear someday and end up as someone’s dinner this Winter. Prim will be heartbroken.”

“It’s too late now. It was too late the moment that cat woke up after she nursed it. I should have drowned it when we got back home but I didn’t and now, WE have to make sure nothing happens to it. We’ll put something around his neck and let everyone know he’s a pet. There isn’t a soul in the Seam that would want to hurt Prim.”

“Until they’re hungry enough…” 

As the days grow colder a rough rope of twine is tied around my neck and tied into a bow. My Primrose adjusts it everyday. She says it will keep me safe. I keep it on and wear it with pride as it did seem to keep the street urchins away. I was free to go about my business in the Seam. Primrose called it my lucky bow and believed it brought me good luck. I knew it had nothing to do with luck but with threats that Sister, Katniss would shoot anyone who dared touch me through the eye.

Winter was indeed hard in the little home I shared with my Primrose and her family. Sister, Katniss continued to venture outside of the perimeter fence but returned with less and less meat. I tried my best to contribute to the family’s store with mice I would catch. 

I abandoned my efforts to escape to the Capitol to see them through the season. It’s the least I could do after they saved my life. I could not abandon my Primrose in her time of need. Besides, while I was mostly physically healed, my enhanced systems were still off-line. Some were functioning in limited capacity, others like my mapping capabilities would never come back. A few more months of recuperation couldn’t hurt, I decided to stay through spring. 

Spring arrived just in time and I marveled at the improvement in my Primrose and her family. Sister, Katniss would return from her journeys with a bag full of game and greens and somehow bread. It puzzled me until I followed her through town one day. Normally I would head home after she went to the Hob. I did not risk being caught by Sae. Old lady or not, I still believed she was lethal. That day I was distracted by a particularly cheeky squirrel and was there when she left. I followed her to the back door of the bakery where she was greeted warmly and given bread in return for her game. Sister, Katniss was indeed resourceful. Though, I believed we would never be friends, I did have respect for her.

One spring day, my Primrose was particularly happy. “It’s my birthday! I’m eleven. It’s my last happy birthday until I turn 19. We don’t say that until reaping is over but this is my last happy birthday for a while so… It’s going to be a great day. Mom promised she’d stay up to dinner time and I think Katniss is going to give me a ribbon and I so want a new shiny ribbon to wear to school.” She babbled on, telling me stories of what her friends got for their last Happy Birthday and how a ribbon is just as good. Again, I marveled at how she can be so happy with so little. I was about to set off to town to hunt some prey for her as a gift, when I caught an unusual scent in the air. It was Sister, Katniss surely and the tallest Hawthorne and blood. Lots of blood. That wasn’t unusual after a successful hunt but there was another smell, I couldn’t quite place. As they came into sight, the tallest Hawthorne was carrying a creature in his arms, a big creature with horns. A GOAT! We could eat for days on the meat of a goat. But why is the goat wearing a ribbon?

Sister Katniss instructed the tallest Hawthorne to set the goat down outside of the house and she called for my Primrose.

The goat was injured. Not as badly as I was, but my Primrose wasted no time. She began to treat the goat’s injuries and within no time at all, the nanny goat was healthy again. Unfortunately no amount of nursing could make the fool thing intelligent. It was without a doubt the dumbest creature I had ever met. Driven only by a desire to consume anything in its path. It would walk off the edge of a cliff if it saw something to eat at the bottom. I took on the job of goat herder. When it escaped its enclosure, as it often did, I made it my job to make sure it didn’t wander too far from home. No amount of threats from Sister Katniss would work to save the wretched creature if a Seam family was hungry.

With the added responsibilities I’d placed on myself, I found very little time to work on my mission. I would occasionally see the target Abernathy, Haymitch as he ventured into the Hob on his alcohol pilgrimage. He’d stumble and grumble and keep up his empty pockets charade through the Seam. A few times, I followed him to the gates of Victor’s Village. I noticed something odd after one of these surveillance trips. His stumbling gait would smooth out and his back would straighten as he approached his house. 

My spy intuition told me it was a ruse. That he wasn’t as drunk as he acted and that perhaps his trips to the Hob had more to do with his rebel activities. My programming would demand that I’d investigate this possibility, but what had been happening more and more at this point was that I ignored my programming and instead answered my more basic instincts. My cat instincts. My cat instincts told me that dinner would be ready back at home, and afterwards, there would be cuddles with my Primrose. So I’d watch him stride into his home and I would return to a warm lap back in the Seam. My old pad that I had once valued so much had nothing on a warm lap or bed to sleep in.

As the 73rd Reaping approached, so too did another opportunity to return to the Capitol. The logistics of such an escape were daunting. Sure I could sneak aboard the Tribute Train and I’d be in the Capitol by morning. But what would I do following my arrival? My navigation and homing signal had been located in my left eyeball, which I no longer had. Even if I did, it had malfunctioned after I collided with the force field. I would have to navigate the streets and allies of the Capitol on memory alone. Any stray cat found in the streets of the capitol would meet an immediate death, as they were believed to carry diseases. To be fair, most did, they just weren’t dangerous to humans.

No, any plan to return to the Capitol and my handlers would require more research. And even if I did return to them, what would I have to show for it? A failed mission, and a twine bow.

A twine bow, lovingly tied around my neck every day to keep me safe. Perhaps next year, I thought.

The 73rd Reaping was nothing unusual and Sister, Katniss returned home safe. There was a quiet dinner celebration in our little house. Two more houses in the Seam were dark. They would not be celebrating. My Primrose sneaked out before bed to bring them some strawberry preserves Sister, Katniss had been saving. Sister, Katniss pretended not to notice. 

The summer passed into fall and brought with it the coldest Winter ever in 12. Families throughout the district were struggling, especially in the Seam. Decisions were made. Did they keep their homes warm or feed the family? Many families in the Seam made the wrong decisions and I saw them carrying out the dead of those that starved or in one case a whole family was discovered having froze to death in their own beds. 

In our home, all of us moved into the kitchen, goat included. The girls and their mother all slept in one bed nearest the stove. Sister, Katniss preserved enough meat that if rationed closely would last us. I found hunting for my own sustenance to be quite easy in that weather. Drawn by the meager heat of the house, mice literally came to me. I wish perhaps I could have shared some of my mice with the families who made the wrong choices.

My faith in the Capitol waned and then it no longer existed. No Capitol citizen ever froze to death in their own homes. They never died of starvation. Yet, no food came to help the people of the Seam. No shelter was given to those who couldn’t afford heat. And while I knew that I, well fed on mice, presented an opportunity for dinner to these starving people, none took advantage. I was spared. I understood why there were rebels.

Spring arrived overnight and it seemed the world burst to life. Sister, Katniss returned to her woods and I resumed my patrols of the town and Seam. Sister Katniss would bring home more quarry than ever before. What we didn’t consume, she traded for other foods. Bread became more prevalent on our table. The girls grew strong and healthy, the goat was giving milk and even the mother seemed to be improving.

As summer approached, my thoughts turned to the reaping and another opportunity to escape. With the girls doing so well, this might be the time to slip away. Perhaps they don’t need me so much anymore.

One evening, my Primrose was brushing my fur and talking to me as she did.

“Do you know what’s coming up Buttercup?” I tried to respond that I did in fact know. “My first Reaping. I’m twelve now Buttercup.” She began to cry.

I nudged my head under her chin to tell her it would be Ok but I feared the Reaping just as much as she did. She was such a sweet caring soul who fought to save the life of a wretched injured cat. For that is what I was 3before she found me, a wretched mutt. Primrose Everdeen saved my life. The Capitol gave me a mission, but my Primrose gave me a soul.

To think of her dying by the hand of another tribute or losing what was so wonderful about herself after being forced to kill made me angry. My time in 12, the Seam specifically, opened my eyes and it wasn’t until this moment with a little girl confessing her deepest fear to a friend she knew would remain silent, did I know for 100% sure that I was fighting for the wrong side. Primrose gathered herself and admitted another fear. She knew that she would not be in danger because if her name was called, Sister, Katniss would never let her go.

History books will tell you that my Primrose’s worst fears did come true. Her name was called and her Sister Katniss volunteered and together with the kind Baker’s Boy who always threw me some of his pig’s slop she headed off to the Capitol and certain death. I remember climbing to the top of the train depot to watch her board the train. I howled as loud as I possibly could and as long as the train was still in sight. I paid tribute to Sister Katniss. If she didn’t return, I wanted her to know I would protect my Primrose.

But she did return and somehow with the Baker’s Boy as well. I was convinced that Abernathy, Haymitch must be a genius for how else would this happen? Of course he was a genius. He had once eluded me, after all.

The move to Victor’s Village brought many changes for the Everdeens and me. The house was large and filled with fine furnishings. I couldn’t help but compare it to the dilapidated mess that was Abernathy, Haymitch’s home. Under the filth and torn furniture it must have been just as nice 24 years prior. 

The Capitol propaganda I once believed said that the Victor’s were showered with glory and wealth and that their worries were over. It couldn’t be further from the truth. Sister, Katniss screamed into the night, woke shaking and crying. The girls each had their own rooms even though they wished they could still share a bed. They tried for a few days but Sister, Katniss’ nightmares drove Primrose and I into her own bedroom. 

A few houses away, the Baker’s Boy didn’t sleep at all. He paced the floors until his prosthetic leg would rub raw. I understood now that it must have been the same with Abernathy, Haymitch but he was alone. If I remembered correctly, he lost his family before moving into the Village (a terrible accident we were taught). No wonder he fell into alcohol. I kept my distance from the elder Victor in case he remembered me from that night. I still carried my burn scars, I feared they might have triggered something in his alcohol tinged memory.

The Everdeens provided well for me and the goat. For me it was a cat flap that allowed me to come and go as I pleased. For the goat, a new pen and a house of her own filled with hay. 

There was tension in the air around the district as the new Victors left for their tour. I had always thought that it must be an amazing feeling to be lauded for your efforts. I dreamed of receiving that kind of adoration from the people of Panem. I dreamed of statues of my visage and my name cheered by the people. Sister, Katniss and the Baker’s Boy had it and they were miserable. Now that my eyes (or eye) were opened to the truths about the Capitol, I understood. They were in danger. We all were in danger. 

I was 12 now. I had seen enough to know where I stood. I stood with my family, I stood with the Baker’s Boy and the awful Hawthornes, (even they deserved freedom) and I stood with the rebel Abernathy, Haymitch. If only they knew what I could offer.

While the country’s attentions were following the Victors through their tour, things deteriorated quickly in 12. Head Peacekeeper Cray was roused from his bed one night and forced into an unscheduled transport train, never to be seen again. I watched as he protested, screaming that he would get back at all the bastards who turned on him. Spit flew from his mouth as he was pushed into the train car while handcuffed. There were other peacekeepers in the train already. With my enhanced hearing I could hear him swearing and fighting back until the new Peacekeeper commander entered the car. There was a gunshot, I could see the flash of light. The last I heard of Peacekeeper Cray was his body hitting the floor of the train.

Commander Thread then strode out into the district bringing fear to squash the small glimmer of hope that had been sputtering to take hold.

Shortly after the return of our Victors the Tallest Hawthorne was whipped. It was horrible. The smell of blood filled our house as my Primrose and the mother worked to heal him. I stayed away most of the time, only returning at night to sleep in her arms. It lit a fire in Sister, Katniss though. She was frightened but she knew revolution was upon us. 

The Capitol could not let this hope go unchallenged. It was announced that the next Quarter Quell would send Sister, Katniss back to the Arena. My Primrose was inconsolable. She kept up a brave face for her sister but cried herself to sleep every night. The Capitol literally ripped Sister, Katniss away again. She was in the arena again. 

I was wandering the far side of the district when my hearing caught an odd hum in the air. It was high pitched and getting louder. Something was approaching, fast. The bombers came. The town didn’t even know what was coming. It lit up with fire within moments of the bombers appearance. FIRE. My worst fear. But I had to get to my Primrose and the quickest way to her was through the town. I ran to the back of the first businesses. The bakery was gone, it must have been the first target. People were fleeing their homes but there was nowhere to go. The bombers circled back and hit again. The entire square went up in flames. I had to turn back and circle around the long way. The screams were everywhere. I tried to find my Primrose among them but it was impossible.

Ahead I saw a group of people fleeing the Seam, heading to the forest. “No! I gotta go back, BUTTERCUP!” Prim was screaming. I could hear her, she was in that group. 

I climbed to the top of a nearby house to see if I could spot her. Another bomb went off, and this time the Seam was on fire. I saw my girl in the mass of people heading toward the fence. The tallest Hawthorne had her slung over his shoulder as she struggled to get free. I watched as she was pushed under the fence. She was safe but I couldn’t get to her. Flames rose up around me and I was forced to flee in the opposite direction.

Don’t stop, my Primrose. Keep running! Run fast sweet girl, I will find you.

**Author's Note:**

> I promised myself that I would post on AO3 when I had Part 2 finished. Well last night inspiration struck in the form of @oakfarmer and her amazing comments on my other work. Thank you again.
> 
> More thanks to @Katnissdoesnotfollowback, @megaaulover @Alliswell = you guys have been cheerleaders all along for this work.
> 
> It's been a tough road, but Chapter 2 is done and to the beta. It won't be long for an update.


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